


Our Song is a Slamming Screen Door

by AngeNoir



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Curtain Fic, Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Future Fic, Love, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 16:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17145158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: "Do you know what your father did?" Hanzo asked in exasperation.Sakura boofed at him again.





	Our Song is a Slamming Screen Door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Odds_Evens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odds_Evens/gifts).



> for the secret santa fic exchange on discord (i hope this is the correct person, bc it didn't tell me whether that username is discord only or ao3 as well x.x)

Hanzo glowered at the milk jug and at first ignored the soft boof at his feet. The second boof, however, had him looking down at their Akita, a gentle tempered girl who towered over their other four dogs.

“Do you know what your father has done?” he asked in exasperation.

Sakura boofed again.

He knew she thought he was going to get her a treat, seeing as how he was standing in front of the biscuit jar. The weirdly shaped jar, shaped like a grinning armadillo - a retirement present from Oxton, of course, who else would be so tacky? - was sitting behind the milk quart carton.

Well, it wasn’t as if  _ Hanzo _ would need milk in the morning. It meant he couldn’t ready the coffee for his husband, but since it was his husband’s fault the milk was out, he wasn’t going to be too upset.

...Dammit.

Heaving a sigh, he looked at the clock. It was six in the morning, and while the sun was up, and had been up for almost a full hour, he knew his husband wasn’t going to move until the alarm went off at seven thirty. Enough time to drive into town, pick up milk, and come back.

It meant Hanzo would miss his morning run, but his husband got grumpy without coffee.

Grumbling under his breath, Hanzo dumped the milk carton into the recycling unit and grabbed the keys to the ancient hovercraft that Jesse had been so proud of. It apparently was an authentic model from 2055, in classic condition. It was also their only actual automotive vehicle; they didn’t go into town very often, and in fact, when Jesse decided to go into town, he normally rode into town on Nellie, their painted horse. Or paint horse. Hanzo never remembered the breed, though the horse was a beautiful palette of colors.

Hanzo missed, a bit, the bustle of a city - he had loved how connected everything in Hanamura was - but he had also gotten used to the absence of the bustle while they had been a part of the new Overwatch, in the outpost on Gibraltar. He could always head into the nearby town, then take a twenty minute ziptrain dash to Albuquerque, wander the scaffolded city and wander around the old parts while also going to museums and the fancy shops he loved. He could eat at beautiful restaurants, be surrounded by people and skyscrapers, find rare books and antiquities as well as international ingredients like sake and natto that weren’t available in Los Alamos.

Still, it was a fifteen minute drive into town, and then he would pick up some milk. He might as well pick up some other ingredients, make a nice breakfast spread for Jesse. It had been a while since he spoiled Jesse for the sake of spoiling him.

It would be nice.

The first issue he ran into were the dogs themselves. All five of them saw him pick up his jacket and grab the fob of the hovercraft. Immediately, they were all up, eagerly running around his legs, nearly tripping him up as he tried to make his way to the front door of the ranch house. Grumbling and growling, he had to admit that he normally went running with all five of them, gave them their exercise for the day. They needed to work out their energy, and if he left them they would get antsy, probably wake Jesse up much earlier than Jesse would normally wake up.

Heaving a sigh, he opened the door and looked at the five faces staring up at him, two of them trembling, all the tails wagging furiously. “Well, come on then,” he huffed.

Immediately, the five of them bolted out the door and waited on the front porch, eagerly waiting for Hanzo to grab their leashes. He normally ran Haru, Lucy, and Ethel on leashes, because those three were far more excitable; Sakura and Ryo were far more steady and staid, and were unlikely to leave his side anyway.

Since they were going in to town, he leashed all of them, hopped them up into the bed of the hovercraft and tied their leashes to the hook set there for them before engaging the hardlight shield that would make sure none of them fell out, or get pummeled by bugs, or have dust kicked up into their faces, though the shield would still allow air to move through it and bring all the scents that excited the dogs. He clambered into the driver seat, engaging the engine and plugging in the destination. Once the computer took the input and told him the travel time, calculating the road conditions and weather (15 minutes and 38 seconds), he keyed in his code and hooked the fob into the keyhole.

With a rumble, the hovercraft lifted off and zipped sedately down the dirt road to join the major road into town.

Behind the cab, in the bed of the hovercraft, the dogs were hopping from one side to the other, making the hovercraft sway slightly. Hanzo pushed the chair back to give himself room to relax - he knew Jesse enjoyed manually driving the hovercraft, but he preferred letting the autodrive feature take care of it so he didn’t have to do anything. It allowed him to check through his communique, the news, check up on how Overwatch was faring, and, right now, let him unhook his prosthetics and massage the nerve endings.

He’d have to go in to the doctors soon, or call Lucio. The pain was recurring, and this was the third time in two weeks where he woke up and the stumps of his legs were twinging with phantom pains.

Perhaps he could call upon Angela and Zenyatta. It would have the added benefit of convincing Genji to come for a visit; Genji, for all his love of American culture, did not like  _ living _ in America, particularly at Hanzo and Jesse’s quiet house in the rustic American countryside. It seemed as if the only peace and quiet he could stand was the Nepalese temple where he and Zenyatta lived half the year; the other half of the year, he was squarely situated in the reopened mission headquarters of Overwatch, set in the megapolis of Heraklion, Greece, in the Mediterranean sea.

In any case, once ten minutes had passed, he reattached his prosthetics and winced at the faint ache in his bones, and signed out of his communique. At fourteen minutes and fifty-two seconds, the hovercraft entered Los Alamos, and by the fifteen minutes and thirty seconds mark, the hovercraft was parking before the small grocer Hanzo preferred. It was short work to key the light shield in protective mode, lock up the hovercraft, and enter the grocery. There was not a lot of variation available in the small bustling city of Los Alamos, but there was enough; he picked up some thick-cut bacon, some honeycomb from a local farm, fresh cactus fruit, and some of the freshly baked loaves of bread along with the milk. Then he paid for his purchases, placed the groceries in the back of the hovercraft, setting the temperature of the grocery storage compartment carefully to make sure nothing would spoil in the hot New Mexico sun even now, at six-thirty-seven in the morning, and gathered up the leashes of the dogs. They would be insufferable without any exercise; he had to walk them at least a bit, in order to work out some of their energy.

The town’s most popular bakery would be their stop; it was a nice five minute walk down the street, and he could tie the dogs to the hoverbike rack outside and let them sniff about as he purchased some of the churros that Jesse loved and that, for some reason, Hanzo could not cook no matter how often he tried. He could also pick up a cake, and the thought of having one of those delicate iced confections had his mouth watering. His normal breakfast consisted of hot soup and some tea, but he could make an exception today.

The dogs were eager, milling about him and ranging across the sidewalk, and he’d feel guilty about that if there had been more foot traffic - but it was a small city, a Sunday morning, and well before most people were awake; there was practically no one on the city streets this close to the edge of the city. Further downtown, he wouldn’t have been able to do this; their dogs were all fairly large breeds and took up much of the space of the sidewalk, trotting eagerly alongside Hanzo’s slow jog down the row of shops to Churros and Chocolates.

Outside the bakery, he tied the dogs firmly, and gave them the sharp order to behave. Obediently, the dogs laid down - well, four of them laid down and panted; Ryo sat down and pricked his ears, watching the few cyclists and walkers this early in the morning.

It would soon be too hot for the cold weather dogs to be out on the pavement; Hanzo quickly went inside to make his selection.

“Good morning, Hanzo! I don’t normally see you in on the weekend.”

Hanzo smiled politely at the young girl behind the counter. Christine was the daughter of the owner, and more often than not worked in the shop as she did her degree online. She helped her mother care for her younger siblings, two of which were already in college and the other three in staggered grades at the local schools. She recognized both Hanzo and Jesse by now, though admittedly Jesse more than Hanzo. Hanzo had never really grown out of his awkwardness around other human beings, and now that he was older and more reclusive, he was that much more unwilling to have causal interactions with practical strangers. It didn’t help that even with just the short jog, his prosthetics were beginning to irritate him again.

Silently and quickly, he pointed out the churros Jesse had a weakness for, ordering a dozen, and one of the strawberry and chocolate cakes, glaze and frosted sugar gleaming in the morning sun. For a few seconds he hesitated, then also picked up some freshly made rolls and a bag of their homemade dog treats.

Fortunately, the town - or this part of it, at least - was small enough that they were aware that there were days Hanzo didn’t interact beyond pointing or sign language; Christine waved cheerily as Hanzo exited, and he smiled in response before juggling his boxes and bagged purchases to untie the leashes and walk back to the parked hovercraft. As it was nearing seven, the heat was much more noticeable now, and his cold weather breeds were panting and restless. It was a small struggle to shift everything around so that he could place his purchases inside the cab before having the dogs hop up into the bed of the hovercraft. It took him a bit longer than he expected until he could finally engage the hardlight shield over the bed and set the temperature controls inside the shield - a costly addition, but one necessary for their furry friends.

Immediately, Sakura and Haru crowded around one of the ports that blew in cooler air, and Ryo barked happily. Hanzo patted Ryo’s head, double-checked the leashes to make sure they were secure, and then returned to the cab to place his purchases in the grocery container.

He’d get back to the ranch with barely enough time to begin breakfast, and he frowned at the time. He had wanted it to be a nice surprise - but there was nothing to be done for it now. Perhaps Jesse would sleep in a little; he had done so before, though not reliably.

After he slotted in the directions into the autopilot, he pushed the chair back and reclined a little, tapping his fingers on his thigh. The fifteen minutes seemed to pass by slowly this time, now that Hanzo was aware of the time and how soon Jesse would wake up.

When the hovercraft finally pulled into the drive of their ranch, Hanzo hopped out and undid the leashes of the dogs, letting them run out into the yard. There was a small pond in the front, so the heavier dogs could cool off, and plenty of stubby trees to provide the illusion of shade - coupled, of course, with the porch, which was covered and firmly within the house’s temperature controls, so that their dogs could stay cool as needed. They shot off, barking wildly, as Hanzo keyed off the shield and the energy rotation, emptied the grocery compartment, and made his way into the house.

It was about seven-ten, and Hanzo quickly placed his purchases down on the small island, placing the reusable sacks back where they belonged, lying everything nice and neat and orderly, before starting up the coffeemaker. It would take around five to ten minutes to brew, giving Hanzo enough time to get the bacon started. The warm bread went into the oven on a warming heat, and he dug into the pantry to pull out the beans and corn tortillas. Beans were an acceptable breakfast, but he knew his husband, and his husband’s fondness for sugar.

(Hanzo shared it, just not so early in the morning most days.)

There was a crepe recipe Hanzo remembered, that he could couple with the fresh blackberries that grew in their backyard - Jesse had picked some for the house just yesterday - and the cactus fruit. By seven-twenty-eight the beans were warming with the heavy tomato sauce and onions, the corn tortillas were in the oven heating up, the bread was sliced carefully and laid out, butter was coming to room temperature on the table, he had finished four crepes and the fruit compote to go on top, the bacon was sizzling in the pan, and five hungry and begging faces were pressing against the front door’s screen as the dogs shuffled anxiously.

He was almost done, and as he bent down to pull out the tortillas and place them on their serving plate, a warm hand cupped his ass, pulled up his spine.

“Rude,” Hanzo sniffed, straightening up and lying the tortillas on the plate. “Not even a good morning? Barbarian.”

Jesse hummed behind Hanzo, and leaned heavily on Hanzo’s back, tucking his chin on Hanzo’s shoulder and wrapping his arm around Hanzo’s middle - his prosthetic wasn’t on, and the symbol of intimacy, of safety and warmth, made Hanzo’s eyes soften and he tilted his head to press a kiss to the corner of Jesse’s mouth.

“What’s th’ occasion, honeybee?” Jesse mumbled, half-lidded eyes looking over the feast, the churros on their plate, the bread sliced and in place next to the covered and steaming bowl of beans, the crepes and fruit compote and corn tortillas waiting by the stove to be carried to the table.

“No occasion at all,” Hanzo sighed. “Just… felt like doing it.”

Jesse’s eyes crinkled at the corner, the silver in his hair flashing in the morning sunlight as he took in the spread. “Stopped by town, I see.” His eyes traveled to the recycling unit, and he winced. “Ah. No milk?”

“I went and got milk for you, you ridiculous man,” Hanzo teased, pulling out the novelty coffee mug for Jesse and pouring in a generous helping of the black brew, just as the teapot began to whistle on the back burner. “You hadn’t replaced it.”

“Ah forgot,” Jesse grunted, moving over to the table and sitting down. “Hell, Hanzo, you did all’a this fer me?”

“You’re my husband,” Hanzo murmured, bringing over the plate of crepes and fruit, kissing Jesse’s temple. “Can I not surprise you with something like this sometimes?”

Jesse leaned his head back, eyes warm and so full of love that Hanzo felt like his heart would burst. “I love you, Hanzo Shimada. I love you more’n the sky an’ th’ stars.”

Hanzo leaned forward, intending to kiss Jesse properly, morning breath be damned - and then a canine whine from the screen door interrupted the two of them.

Five eager dogs were crowding the door, panting and drooling on the front porch.

Jesse barked out a laugh and pushed his chair back. “They smell th’ bacon, I see,” he crooned, and Hanzo watched him walk towards the door, barefoot and in his ratty old boxers, the letters B A M F stretched across his considerable ass, the weight packed onto his sides and thighs and the hair covering his back, and there had been no version of Hanzo’s past where he thought he’d have this - he’d have a husband, a family, a ranch and no pressures, nothing but the empty sky and the love of his spouse.

Hanzo was a lucky man.

**Author's Note:**

> Sakura - [Akita](https://www.dogbreedplus.com/dog_breeds/images/akita.jpg)  
> Haru - [Hokkaido](https://s3.amazonaws.com/cdn-origin-etr.akc.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/12185551/Hokkaido-MP.jpg)  
> Ryo - [Husky](https://www.pets4homes.co.uk/images/breeds/43/large/aec7190387f6de3b5fc508a95b957e6e.jpg)  
> Lucy - [Golden Retriever](https://vetstreet.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/21dc2d6/2147483647/thumbnail/645x380/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fvetstreet-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F9f%2F9b%2F6ff000df4e4d8e8c70608cf6e0f5%2Fgolden-retriever-ap-0johoo-645.jpg)  
> Ethel - [Golden Retriever](http://everythinggolden.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/White-Golden-Retriever.jpg)
> 
> And the [novelty cowboy mug](https://www.etsy.com/listing/552074645/vintage-sheriffs-coffee-mug-perfect-for?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=vintage&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=cowboy+mug&ref=sr_gallery-3-6&organic_search_click=1) Hanzo bought for Jesse one holiday.


End file.
